Domesticated
by mccob
Summary: Wade and Lemon have a late night chat and clear some things up.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hart of Dixie in any way, shape, or form

Domesticated

It was late, the Rammer Jammer was closed. The only lights in the place were around the bar. Wade walked out of the office with the bank bag to find Lemon sitting at the bar with a glass in front of her and a thousand yard stare on her face.

"Hey, partner," he said, walking over to her. He leaned over her glass and sniffed. "Drinkin' Jack tonight? Thought you liked those lady drinks with gin and rum and the like."

"Friend of mine is teaching me to drink fine whiskey," she said with a smile. "Consider this homework."

"Anybody we know?"

"That, Mr. Kinsella, is not part of our partnership."

"So, what have you learned so far?" Wade set down the bag, reached behind him and pulled a St. Pauli Girl from the cooler, popping it open on the edge of the bar.

"I've been told," Lemon said with a tilt of her head as she picked up her glass, "that one should not drink it, in the traditional sense, but take small sips," she did, "lean back and let it roll over your tongue as it goes down," which she did, "as if you were smoking it, not drinking it."

Wade took a pull on his beer and nodded. "Sounds right to me, although I usually avoid the hard stuff. Makes me wake up in strange places."

"M'mm," Lemon agreed, taking another small sip. They sat in silence for a minute or two.

"So," Wade said, taking another pull on his beer, "you gettin' any?"

Lemon threw her head back and practically shrieked with laughter.

"My God, Wade, no matter how much you've changed, how much you surprise me, you can still be thoroughly disgusting."

"I'll take that as a yes," Wade chuckled.

"You can take it any way you want," Lemon said with a smile as she took another dainty sip of whiskey and tilted her head back to let it roll over her tongue.

Wade straightened up and bent backwards, stretching his muscles. He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels from the shelf behind him, snagged another beer out of the cooler, and walked around the bar to sit next to Lemon. As he got settled on the bar stool, Lemon poured a little more whiskey into her glass.

"How'd we do tonight?" she asked.

"Good, good," Wade said. "In fact, it's been a good couple of months now, things are trending up, and I've been thinking about that."

"M'mm?"

"Course you remember our first annual Wine and Fight Night?"

"Who could forget? No wine, no fight, and a good time was had by all."

"Well," Wade took a pull on his beer, "what if we brought back the wine tastings, or poetry readings, or whatever it was you had in mind, and put them in the store room, you know, empty it out, redecorate, put in another door, that kind of thing."

"Wade, you told me that was the stupidest idea ever." Lemon looked at him like he was crazy. "And besides, certainly you remember the aftermath of Wine and Fight Night?"

Wade held up his hand as if to stop her. "All we have to do is keep you away from big hammers and we'll be fine. I didn't hit the support beam, you did."

Lemon nodded. "Fair enough, but still..."

"No, I was wrong about those ideas, they bring in people who don't ordinarily come to the Rammer Jammer, and give us wider exposure among the townsfolk."

"Townsfolk? Wade, you have lost your mind," Lemon hooted.

"No really," he said, "it's a way to keep the place busy all the time, keep us in the public eye. We can do meetin's like the Memory Matrons, the Elks Lodge, we just need the right furnishings and I figure that's right up your alley, and..." he pointed at her with his beer bottle for emphasis, "you get to spend money."

Lemon stared at him for a full minute, trying to decide if he was serious, even though he certainly appeared to be. Wade just gazed back at her serenely, sipping his beer.

"So, what do you think?" Wade finally broke the silence.

"What about the sports bar and the live music?"

"Well," Wade went on, "We have the big screen tv, but we can't expand the dance floor and bandstand just yet, I figure it'll be too much right now, but converting the storeroom is totally doable. We probably ought to increase the live music, have an open mic night, focus on local bands, pretty soon we'll have that 700-seat amphitheater with air conditioning. Have to build on, of course, but then we'll have separate areas for live music and the TV sports..."

"Whoa, hold on!" Lemon held up hands, laughing. "And I suppose you know long it will take for all this to happen?"

"I do," Wade nodded solemnly. "Two years. And by the way, that was seriously good work getting Gloriana to play here, that has put us on the music scene map. Seriously good work." He nodded for emphasis. "Considerin' I wasn't exactly focussed on the task at hand."

"Oh, you were focussed all right, just not on Gloriana. Have you called her, by the way?" Lemon's eyes never left Wade's as she took another dainty sip of whiskey and let it roll over her tongue.

Wade shook his head and took a pull on his beer.

"Why not? My God, Wade, you told her you loved her and you're just going to sit here and wait two more months for an answer? You can't just do nothing!"

"She asked for time and distance, Lemon. She provided the distance, I'm providing the time. She has to figure out what she wants, and it's not going to help matters if I keep calling up like a lovesick schoolboy. She knows how I feel, she needs to know how she feels."

They both sat in silence for a while. Wade opened his second beer. Lemon swirled the whiskey in her glass. "She might not come back."

Wade nodded. "That's a chance I have to take. I want her with me because that's where she wants to be, not because she feels obligated or she's waitin' for something better to come along. Been

there, done that. It has to be that way or not at all."

Lemon leaned on the bar and put her chin in her hand. "You know, Wade, for years I didn't understand why you and George were friends, especially back in high school. You two were so different, and there were many times I wished you weren't hanging around with your juvenile pranks and wiseguy attitude..."  
"Hey, I WAS a juvenile, remember?"

"...and your smart mouth." Lemon went on, "but one of the things I have discovered over the years is that you are loyal to your friends, you do what you say will do, and you don't make a promise unless you can keep it. Another thing I have discovered, you aren't just George's friend, you're mine too."

Wade smiled that crooked little grin of his and took another pull on his beer.

"Which is why I am scared to death for you that Zoe won't come back or she won't feel the same way about you that you do about her when she does come back. Wade, you need to call her."

He just shook head. "Can't do it, wouldn't be right."

"Then I will," Lemon said as she dug in her purse for her phone.

"Lemon." Something in his tone of voice made her glance up at her partner, and when she saw the look in his eye she set her purse down without taking the phone out. They sat quietly for a while, drinking.

"Speaking of George," Wade began after a while with a twinkle in his eye.

"We were not speaking of George," Lemon said with a smile.

"Well, have you heard from ol' Tucker lately?"

"I have heard him, but I have not heard from him," Lemon said.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I forgot, you don't listen to the radio that much. George wrote this song right here in the Rammer Jammer with Lily Anne, 'Call Yourself a Doctor', they're playing it on the radio a lot these days."

"You're kiddin'."

"No, really, I read an article about them in one of the weeklies, they've got themselves a record deal. In fact," Lemon started to giggle, "I heard another one of their songs, although it's just Lily Anne, or at least I'm pretty sure it is, and, well, you just wouldn't believe it." Lemon started to laugh outright.

Wade grinned and took another pull on his beer. "So spill it."

"Well, I didn't find it, Annabeth did, there's this website called 'off the charts dot net' where people can upload songs, it's pretty anonymous really, and, well, some of the songs are just scandalous, you know, x-rated stuff or parodies or whatever..."

"Get to the point, Lemon."

"Well, as I said Annabeth found this song, and there's no artist listed, but we both are sure it's Lily Anne's voice, and I simply can't repeat the words, or all of them anyway, they are just too vulgar, so I'll just use the word 'bleep' and you can fill in the rest." Lemon sat up at little straighter and cleared her throat, then in a tentative soprano she began:

_Why don't you bleep me when I ask you to?_

_ I'm only asking 'cause my heart is blue_

_ Why don't you do for me what I'd do for you?_

_ Why don't you bleep me when I ask you to?_

Wade started laughing. "What do they call that? 'Chucklehead's Lament?"

Lemon started laughing along. "No, the title is the first line, but of course it's the other word, 'cause it's the 'net and all, they can say that."

"Holy bleep, Lemon!" Wade said as he started to wipe his eyes.

"And, and..." Lemon could hardly speak through the laughing, "The best part is, it's about George."

"Wait a minute, how do you know that? It's just a song."

"I can't explain it really, I can just see in my mind's eye George and Lily Anne on the road, and Lily Anne getting a little itchy and wanting George to scratch it and him saying he couldn't possibly. Besides, George can only sing when he's drunk, and then he can't do much else." With that, Lemon raised her eyebrows and cocked her head as if to say that was that and no more needed to be said.

"You don't seem to have much faith in Georgie-boy."

"Oh, I do, actually, it's just that George is George. His first instinct is to be a gentleman."

"Unlike yours truly."

"Wade Kinsella," Lemon spoke sharply, fire in her eyes, "I simply will not tolerate that kind of talk. You may have bedded half the female population of this county, but you have never disguised your intentions, and any girl that entered into relations with you knew exactly what she was getting. I cannot think of a more honest man than you when it comes to the opposite sex. Not everyone is prepared for that kind of honesty."

Wade bowed his head. "I consider myself reprimanded."

Lemon frowned slightly as she inhaled another drop of Jack Daniels. "Reprimanded? Townsfolk? Where are these words coming from, Wade?"

"My head, Lemon," Wade growled. "You're not the only one that knows big words."

"And speaking of honesty," Lemon went on, "How come you never hit on me?"

Wade threw his head back and laughed. "You mean, besides the fact that you've been George's girl since you were fourteen?"

"Yes, besides that."

"Well, you know, that's not strictly true, Lemon. Remember that time in tenth grade?"

"No, I was in ninth grade, you were in tenth, and that didn't count because George never bought it. Thank you for trying to make him jealous, though."

"Nothin' to it, really. I wanted to help you out, I kinda felt bad 'cause of your mama. I thought maybe I knew a little bit how you felt, and, well," Wade began to grin, "I kind of wanted to rattle George's cage little."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"And what question was that?"

"Dammit, Wade!"

"Look, I don't want to get into this, no good can come of it."

Lemon began to drum her fingers on the bar and staring at Wade with a look of impatience. "Remember when you were nine...?"

"All right," Wade held up both hands in surrender. "First of all, I want to make one thing perfectly clear, I have no interest at all in hurting your feelings, and if I say something that does hurt your feelings, I'm sorry." Lemon nodded. "It's not that I don't find you attractive, I do, but in a kind of abstract way. I know you're pretty," Lemon smiled demurely, " but you just don't rev my engine. I mean, truth be told, back in the day I liked my girls a little sluttier. Certainly a lot sluttier than you could ever be. Plus, your dad was the town doctor, my dad was the town drunk, except for George we didn't move in the same circle at all."

"I was out of your league," Lemon said, nodding, without a hint of sarcasm or superiority, just a statement of fact. Wade nodded.

"So you got your lack of physical attraction, your bossiness, you had a boyfriend..."

"You're still doing that, you know," Lemon said.

"...your temperament, your ability to scare the livin' crap out of people..."

"You're still doing it, Wade." Lemon leaned forward and stared into his eyes.

"Doing what?"

"Putting people out of your league. That's been your biggest problem with Zoe, you've got her up on some sort of pedestal, and you think she's too good for you, or you're not good enough for her, or something, but you know that's not true."

Wade nodded slowly as he drained his second beer. "Yeah, I did, but not anymore. I don't have to be my dad, and I don't have to screw everything up. Heck, look at this place." He waved his arm around. "We're doin' it, Lemon. We, and I emphasize we, are makin' a go of it, and everyone in town thought we'd crash and burn. We're makin' it because we're a team, you and I, and that's what I want with Zoe. To be her partner, not in business but in life. Never wanted that before, but now I have a roadmap. If she comes back and wants to make a go of it, I'm ready."

"What if she doesn't?"

Wade stood up and smirked. "Then I've still got you and a sports bar that does poetry readin's with live music."

Lemon stood up too and drained her glass. "I have one thing to say to you, Mr. Kinsella."

"Just one?" Wade said as he reached over the bar to grab the bank bag.

"Zoe Hart would have to be a fool not to partner up with you." She picked up her purse. "See you tomorrow, Donkey Kong."

Wade chuckled at the ancient nickname. "See you tomorrow, Lemon Pie."

The next afternoon, Lemon and Annabeth were at the Rammer Jammer with the interior decorater going over fabric swatches when Wade walked by. Lemon held up a bright yellow swatch with a floral pattern on it. She nudged Annabeth.

"What do you think of this, Wade?"

Instead of blowing her off, as Lemon expected, Wade walked over and began fingering the fabric. "Well, it's gotta be durable and stain resistant, we can't re-do that room every year. It's pretty, but don't you think it's a little busy for a meetin' room, it's more like what you would find in your OH MY GOD I DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!"

Wade dropped the swatch like it was a snake and hustled off into the kitchen. Lemon and Annabeth watched him go, stunned. Finally, Annabeth broke the silence.

"Two very weird things just happened. First, Wade was talking about fabrics, and second, he just may be right."

Lemon shook her head. "Correction, three things. We now have scientific evidence that Wade Kinsella has been domesticated."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - This was going to be a one-shot story, but then I had these ideas. There will also be a third part.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hart of Dixie, no I do not, not even a bit. If I did there would be more magical realism.

Chapter 2

As a joke a couple of nights ago, Wade had downloaded a personalized ring tone if Zoe's phone called his. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. They were right, the waiting is the hardest part. He thought it was pretty clever, at least for a while, but he forgot about it.

Until now.

At 2am, there they were, Tom and the boys crooning plaintively about waiting, and Wade jerked up with his heart in his throat. He grabbed his phone...there was her name...had something happened?

"Hey, Doc..." Wade managed to squeak out, "You OK? Is everything all right?"

"Hey, cowboy," Zoe purred, "I'm fine, you sound a little wound up though. You OK? Oh, my God, that's right, it's 2am, you were probably...oh, I'm so sorry...I'll just hang up now so you can go back...just forget this ever..."

"WAIT!" Wade leaned back hard and fell against the headboard. "Ow, dammit...and don't you dare hang up this phone Zoe Hart, I just need a minute is all, my heart's beatin' like a rabbit."

"Ooh-kay, take all the time you want."

Wade thought he heard the sound of suppressed giggling at the other end. "Are you laughin' at me? Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm not drunk, and yes, I am sort of laughing at you, you're just so..."

"Terrified?" Wade snapped.

"What? Oh no, Wade, I'm sorry, I didn't realize...terrified? What were you afraid of?"

"Doc, I was sound asleep thirty seconds ago, jeezus."

Zoe waited quietly while Wade's heartbeat returned to normal, which for Zoe was interminable and for Wade was just enough time to take a deep breath and focus on who and where he was. He was Wade Kinsella, he was home in the gatehouse, alone in bed, it was late, and the night was cool, still, and moonless.

"Wade, I'm still here, " Zoe whispered.

"Right, good," Wade said, sitting up and arranging the pillows so he could lean back comfortably. "To what do I owe the pleasure of the sound of your voice?"

"What were you afraid of?"

Wade considered evading the question, it was after all his first reaction to any question that could be potentially revealing, but now there was such a calmness in the night air that he began to tip his hand.

"I don't know really" yes he did, "I thought for some reason something had happened to you and someone else was using your phone to call me to tell me." That was probably true. "Maybe it was something from what I was dreaming."

That was not true at all, because Wade couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about, or even if he had been dreaming. He was also afraid that it WAS Zoe, and she was going to tell him something he didn't want to hear, or worse, it could be drunk Zoe on the line, telling him all those sweet things that his heart had been aching to hear and which she wouldn't remember saying in the morning. That was the hardest part, although waiting was a very close second. He stayed quiet.

"OK." Zoe didn't sound fully convinced, Wade thought, but her reaction was interesting.

"So anyway," she went on, "I called because I have a lot of things to tell you, sort of good news bad news good news, although the bad news isn't really bad news, it's just potentially bad news, and it's down the road a bit, and who knows what will happen by then..."

"Doc, doc, slow down," Wade said, chuckling softly. He was back on familiar ground again, grabbing her helium-filled balloon before it shot off into the sky and out of sight.

"Yeah, I just got home, I've been at the hospital all day, and I got the strangest message while I was at work. It was from Lemon. It just said 'call Wade'. She left me a message on the hospital switchboard, in fact I ended up talking to the guy who took the message, he said it sounded like she had been calling every hospital in New York, you know, 'does a Dr. Zoe Hart work there?' kind of a thing, so I figured it must be important, but not important enough for Lavon to call me because we talk all the time, and I did want to talk to you anyway...

"Damn woman," Wade muttered under this breath, then immediately thought better of it. It was just Lemon being Lemon, she was only doing what she thought was best, even if it was butting into something that wasn't any of her business.

"Yeah, I know," Zoe laughed, "she is kind of a force of nature, isn't she? Well, anyway, there are some things I wanted to say to you, but before I go any further I just want to remind you that this is good news, bad news, good news stuff, nothing bad is going to happen here, I promise..."

"Doc, please, you're killin' me here," Wade pleaded. "Give me some good news."

"Well, I'm seeing someone...no, that didn't come out right, I'm seeing someone about my issues, my personal issues, she's a woman, a psychiatrist actually, we met in the hospital cafeteria, I heard her order something in a Southern accent, and, well, we bonded. Her name is P.J. Eastland, she's from a little town in Mississippi, and of course coming from Bluebell, Alabama AND New York, well, we went out for drinks, we have so much in common. She's about my age, she has her M.D. and her Ph.D. She's the first one in her family to go to college, even, and she's carrying the weight of her whole family...well, that's another issue. We all have them. Mine are daddy-centered, trying to please an absent father, and I have security issues. You have them too."

"Ah, Doc, I don't really..."

"No, that's not what I want to talk about anyway. She's helped me sort out my feelings, a lot. She says if I had siblings I would have seen it sooner, but then again if I had siblings I would have different issues and there wouldn't be anything to see."

"I think you've lost me, Doc."

"I have, have always had, I guess, real feelings for George, but P.J. says if I had grown up with a brother I would have recognized those feelings for what they are. George is my pseudo-brother. I'll always enjoy his company and hope he's doing all right, but as a romantic interest it just wouldn't work."

"So George is your brother from a different mother, so to speak?"

"And of course I would latch onto him right away, engaged or not, just because...well, so many reasons."

"And I want to hear about Golden Boy now because...?"

"Because I now know I will never miss anything by not being with George, because what we have already had is all there is, and there never will be or can be anymore, and that's because of you."

Wade's pulse began to quicken, but he waited quietly. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"What does P.J. say about me?"

At that Zoe began to laugh. "Oh, no, I can't tell you that yet, but I can tell you this, what we have is MAGIC!"

Wade felt like he could breathe again.

"I can also tell you this," Zoe went on, "I want to be with you. I want to BE, whatever 'be' means, with you. I want to be WITH you, not against you or beside you or apart from you or behind you or in front of you. And, I want to be with YOU, Wade Kinsella, the guy who makes me happy, with all your faults and flaws, because that's who you are, and who you are is precious to me."

"Gosh, Doc, that sounds a lot like love."

"Yes it does, doesn't it?"

They both sat in comfortable silence for a bit.

"Hey, ready for some more good news? Guess who I ran into on the subway the other day? Zach."

"Doc, you're losin' me again. Runnin' into your old boyfriend is good news because...?"

"Because I finally figured out what I saw in him."

"Oh," Wade started to laugh, "He's another brother from an even more different mother, although...isn't that illegal, settin' aside the creepy part for a bit?"

"Nope," Zoe chuckled, "He was a trophy wife, or perhaps more appropriately, a trophy mate, an achievement more than a person."

"Really?" Wade said, his eyes widening. This was interesting.

"Yeah, I've told you how we got started, a late night study session that led to a hook up that led to six years of being together, mostly in hospital linen closets it seems, as I remember it now, but it's kind of difficult now to think of it as a relationship. We went out for drinks a few days ago, and while we were talking I realized I was seeing him as he really was for the first time, not just as something I needed to accessorize my wardrobe. He's still very ambitious, he's on staff at St. Luke's and no doubt scheming to one day become chief of surgery, but I mean, that's his life. If it isn't about him or his surgical skills or his political skills in advancing his career, he doesn't know and doesn't care. And you know what, Wade?"

"Mmm?"

"That was me. If I had gotten the fellowship, that would still be me, and the thing was I was more upset then about not getting the fellowship than Zach dumping me, which should have told me something right there but it didn't. I was on a bus to Bluebell twenty-four hours later still fuming about the fellowship and as far as Zach was concerned, it was over. Six years, no tears. I thought there should be a big hole in my heart after that, but I was too angry about the fellowship and too self-absorbed to care about anything else and there was no hole. He was pretty, but when I found I had to get along without him I did, and it didn't take gallons of wine and gallons of ice cream. You and I, though, I think we've been apart more than we've been together and I've never gotten over you. There's a huge difference."

"There is," Wade agreed.

"And, on top of that, when you add everything up, for you and I, we're talking months, maybe a year, certainly not six years."

"Hey, speak for yourself, Doc," Wade said, trying to convey over the phone the smile he had on his face. Got to look into those video phone apps, he thought.

"OK, OK, you get my point," Zoe rolled on, seemingly oblivious to Wade's little joke. "So, time, distance, perspective. I'm a woman of science, Wade, sometimes I need these things."

"Gotcha."

They sat in silence again, this time not quite so comfortable, neither one knowing what to say. Finally Wade remembered the third part of the reason for her call.

"So Doc, you said you had bad news, cause I'm not sure I can take any more good news."

"Yeah," Zoe said quietly, "although it isn't really bad news, just something that we'll need..."

"Zoe...!" It was all Wade could do to refrain from adding 'dammit'.

"It's my job. I love it."

Wade sat still for a moment, thinking 'this is bad news?'.

"I can't wait to get to work every day, Wade, it's exciting. I'm on an ER rotation this summer, along with my regular work in orthopedics, and it sounds kind of morbid, but I get to work on gunshot wounds, stabbings, car crash victims, as well as just regular folks who've broken a bone, some specialty stuff, and it's always busy, this is New York after all, and well, professionally speaking, this is heaven."

Oh, thought Wade, this is what she means by bad news, she wants to stay in New York.

"Now don't get the wrong idea," Zoe said as if reading his mind, "I don't want to stay in New York. This isn't home any more, and it seems a lot noisier and dirtier than I remember it, and the men are so RUDE..."

Wade had to laugh at that, he could feel himself start to unclench a little. This was definitely the roller coaster ride he had been joking about with Zoe's mom when they first met.

"But I also love being a GP," Zoe went on. She was on a roll. "I just think if I can keep up my surgical skills, maybe in Mobile, I don't know, I could help the folks in Bluebell a little better. I just want to do some good in my town."

"Your town?"

"Yep." Wade could definitely hear the smile in Zoe's voice when she said that. "Every time I talk with P.J. I end up calling Bluebell home."

"Sounds like love to me," Wade said softly.

"Yes it does, doesn't it." Zoe whispered for second time that night.

Wade could practically feel the quiet of the night wrap itself around him protectively.

"Well, I should go, let you get some sleep," Zoe finally said.

"Huh, like I'm gonna sleep now after talking with you," Wade grumbled good-naturedly. Zoe chuckled.

"Write me a song, then, if you're gonna still be up."

"Hey, Doc, do you get any country music stations up there?"

"Sure, I guess, when I listen to the radio it's usually the all news station, for the traffic reports on the eights. Why?"

"Oh, no reason." Wade thought, no need to bring that up now.

"OK," Zoe let it go, thinking there must be an interesting story behind that question.

"OK," Wade sighed, "G'night, Doc, I love you."

"G'night, cowboy, see you soon." And just like that she was gone.

Wade got up from the bed, picked up his pants and a flannel shirt from the floor, and got dressed before he went to the mini-fridge to get a bottle of seltzer. Pomegranate flavored. Which he had several cases of, since the Dixie Stop refused to stock it unless Dr. Hart ordered it by the case. He had begun to think of it as his new New York habit. He grabbed his guitar as he went out to the porch. He cracked the seltzer, took a short pull (had to watch out for the gas), put his feet up and began strumming the guitar lazily, seeing if a melody would appear. Now that he was outside in the starlight, the night was alive with crickets and bullfrogs, the chirping and burping and roaring, and the music and the creatures of the night combined to soothe his heart. He had given her every opportunity to say she loved him, and she declined. Curiously, he was not troubled. That's something you want to do face to face, Wade thought, picking at a tune that seemed to coalesce out of night air. And it troubled him not a bit that he had said 'I love you' again, it just showed he was constant. Constant as the Northern Star, that Shakespeare fella once said.

Meanwhile, in New York, Zoe sat staring at the phone, wondering if she had made the right decision. No, she thought, she was right the first time...saying I love you is something you want to do face to face.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - I thought this might work better with only dialog, no explication. Let me know what you think. Thanks to all who took the time to review, y'all had some nice things to say. This story is now complete.

Disclaimer - I don't own Hart of Dixie, I don't own a Cadillac, I don't own a ticket to heaven, and I don't own a ticket back.

Chapter 3

"Dr. Hart?"

"Lemon, how'd you get this number?"

"From Jonah."

"You did not, I have not given, nor would I ever give my number to Jonah. He is annoying and smug and doesn't know the meaning of the word 'mute'."

"All right, I stole it from Wade's phone."

"What is so important that you have STEAL my phone number? I just got home from work, I'm tired, and I just want to put my feet up and drink a glass of wine, I'm really not in the mood…"

"Oh, great, that sounds like a wonderful listening position, you go right ahead, I'll wait."

"Nnnah, you go ahead, I'll just put you on speaker for a minute while I pour my wine."

"Need both hands to work that little thingy on the side of the wine box?...No, I'm sorry, that was unkind."

"No, actually I need both hands to work the CORKSCREW on a nice bottle of wine that I can find in THREE liquor stores within a five minute walk of my apartment, because New York has SO many places to buy wine, unlike some others where your choice is white or red in a BOX, and I'm sorry that's a little snippy, Lemon, but you did call me after all."

"Yes, you are absolutely right, that was a reflex action which I am trying to bring under control, and I did after all call you in the hopes that we could be…less than enemies. There are many qualities about you I admire, Dr. Hart."

"I'm taking you off speaker now, Lemon, I want to hear this up close."

"Dr. Hart, as much as it would thrill me to recount instances of your courage, your diagnostic skills, your acts of kindness, this is not really the nature of my call. I feel we need to speak about Wade."

"That's ridiculous! Why would I want to do that?"

"Because there is a WHOLE WORLD of things you do not know about Wade Kinsella, and you should know. He's not always his own best friend. If you know only one thing about Wade, know that everyone he has ever loved has left him. Everyone. Every. One. And that includes you. His mama died, his daddy started swimming in the whiskey river, his brother joined up when he was seventeen to go fight halfway round the world, Tansy left him after six months, and now you've left him, Lord knows if you will ever come back to Bluebell."

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"Maybe not, but Wade's whole life has been unfair. He's found out the hard way that if you love someone, they leave you. He has guarded his heart very carefully, and I had given up hope that Wade would ever find true happiness with a woman. I have no idea what Wade told you out by that fence, but you need to know that what he feels for you he has felt for no one else. I can see it in his eyes and I see it in the way he behaves. You wouldn't recognize the Wade Kinsella of five years ago, he's a different man now."

"Why are you telling me this, Lemon? Why are you trying to convince me Wade is a good guy? I know that already."

"While we have been working together this summer I have come to appreciate some of Wade's finer qualities. He can fix anything, he's very tall and he can lift a lot of heavy things. He's, I don't know, very, very good at making things happen, getting things done, it's a little hard to explain."

"Lemon, do I have to get drunk for you to make any sense?"

"He's easier to work with, he likes some of my ideas…he's happy, Dr. Hart, not like he used to be, kind of careless and scruffy and unshaven with an attitude of 'I don't give a crap'. I like this Wade Kinsella, and I don't want it messed up."

"So, this whole phone call is about you."

"No, I am merely explaining my selfish motivations which I thought you might find most convincing."

"Nn, you may be right…"

"I also talked with Wade about you a couple of days ago, and it occurred to me that I could offer you some perspective."

"On what?"

"Cheating."

"Oh."

"I wouldn't presume to tell you how to feel, but I know from first hand experience that the cheater feels the wounds of betrayal as well, wounds that do not heal but only become callused over. I have suffered the humiliation of loving two men, not well or wisely, losing them both, and becoming the object of scorn and ridicule of the entire town. These tortures pale in comparison to the tortures I have devised for myself, and while I have decided to forge on, because I must, I also know that because of me the lives of those I love have been forever changed."

"Great speech, Lemon."

"Thank you, I worked hard on it."

"You, you mean you, you actually wrote that out, that whole thing?!"

"No, I worked from notes, for the most part. I wanted to get it right because you are, after all, a doctor, and you don't get to be a doctor unless you are a stickler for detail, isn't that right, Dr. Hart? I did write that part about the wounds, though, and the last bit about the lives of those I love have been forever changed. It was just too good not to use."

"I'm impressed."

"Thank you, Dr. Hart."

"Can you just call me Zoe?"

"No…I do not believe I can. Would Zoe Hart do?"

"It's an improvement, I guess."

"Well, Zoe Hart, my point about Wade is, if there was ever a man deserved a second chance, it's him. In his favor, his transgression was singular in nature, unlike some others who shall not be named, and I know for a fact that that man has suffered. You have NO IDEA what that man has gone through for you, and I've seen the difference. Without you he's like a dog that's been kicked so often it expects it, with you he has a gleam in his eye and he's not looking at the ground anymore. Maybe this happens all the time in New York City, but in Bluebell Alabama this has NEVER happened to Wade Kinsella, and I just thought that was a fact you should know. It may not be important to you, but it's important to us down here."

"Ahh…mmm…uhh…wow."

"Excuse me, is this Zoe Hart speechless? Is this what Zoe Hart sounds like, bereft of speech? You have no words? How astonishing, perhaps I am making an impression. I'm begging for mercy for my friend. Yes, he made a bad, bad mistake, but I KNOW, I KNOW he will never do it again, because I have seen the joy in his face when he looks at you and I have seen the emptiness when you are gone. Half the female population of Alabama would kill for the looks he gives you, when you are here, that is. Can't you find a way to forgive him?"

"You know, Lemon, I've been seriously considering not even bothering to forgive him."

"What, you can't be serious!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm serious. It may be a little crazy, but I actually think it has a chance to work, and besides, a little crazy never stopped me before, right?"

"I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"Relax, it's only a hypothesis at this point."

"Are you drunk?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that? And who are you, the wine police? To answer your question, though, no, I am not drunk, this is my second glass of wine and I am mellow."

"OK, then…you said you had a hypothesis."

"Yes, and so far the empirical data supports my hypothesis, but it's still early. My idea was, and I actually got this from my therapist slash friend…"

"You're seeing a therapist? Is he single?"

"SHE is from a little town in Mississippi very much like Bluebell, Clovis or Cornish, I'm not sure now, her name is P.J. Eastland…"

"What's the P.J. stand for?"

"I can't tell you, that knowledge is restricted to the 14 immediate members of her family and close friends…"

"Fourteen?"

"Long story."

"And…!"

"Long story short, we're about the same age, she has her MD and her PhD, we hang out at her place or my place, we drink wine, she gives me insight into my problems and I let her use me as a case study for a paper she's doing, and then we drink some more wine and talk about men. It's great to meet someone like her, a woman who is succeeding in a man's world."

"A woman like yourself, Dr. Hart."

"I never really thought about it that way, but I suppose so."

"Surely you HAVE thought about it! All those times in all those classrooms with all those men, sometimes the only female in the group, all that testosterone in the air, surely you must have felt it, the competitiveness, jockeying for position, and you were on the outside, they weren't going to let you play because you're a girl and you don't understand the rules and you'll probably cry if you lose."

"I never let that bother me, I just focused on knowing the material, studying hard, working hard. I kept my head down and moved forward."

"That's one of those qualities I admire in you, Zoe Hart. But you said you had a hypothesis about not forgiving Wade."

"Yes, I'm not going to do anything about it. Maybe someday, in the future, I'll forgive him, but the issue of forgiveness, for me, is becoming less and less important as the days go by. I think forgiveness will come when it comes. It's all a matter of priorities, see? What is my priority here? What is the overarching need that must be satisfied? Three words. Be with Wade. Can I forgive him for cheating on me? I understand a lot more now about the motivations behind all of that drama, and the point is moot because I want to be with Wade, so I HAVE to figure out a way to deal with the cheating somehow because I'm not giving Wade up because of it. What does that tell me? It tells me that in the long run, the cheating isn't very important, it was an aberration and a lesson learned, and I can look forward to the day when I will hardly ever think of it. Does it still hurt? Yes, but not as much, and I think as time goes by it will hurt less and less."

"That is a very courageous thing to do, Zoe Hart."

"I don't know about courageous, but it's really my only option since Wade is my priority. I can't explain it, but he makes me happy, deliriously happy sometimes, and I'm miserable without him, and I think my heart made this decision a long time ago and my head is just catching up."

"Oh, I do know about courageous, Zoe Hart. I spoke to Betty last week, she's doing fine, real fine, and she said to say 'hi'. You remember my cousin Betty Breeland? The young lady who you diagnosed and treated for MS just before the parade, the young lady that you crashed the float for, so her symptoms wouldn't become public knowledge, the patient for whom you have kept strict confidentiality lo these several years, at great personal cost to your reputation, by the way, and whose secret has only become known to me because Betty told me herself. That is something my daddy would do, that is something Harley Wilkes would do, that's Harley all over, actually…"

"Thank you Lemon, but as you just pointed out that is only what any doctor would do…"

"Oh can't you just take a compliment and be done with it? The correct response there is 'thank you Lemon'. The rest is superfluous."

"Thank you Lemon."

"So, are you going to give Wade another chance when you come back?"

"Have you not been listening?"

"Just checking."

"He's lucky to have you, you know."

"I couldn't do this without him."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

"I think we are a lot more alike than either of us would care to admit."

"I was just thinking that, but I wasn't going to say it."

"G'night, Zoe Hart."

"G'night, Lemon Breeland."


End file.
